


The Nightmare and the Boy

by Anonymous



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Bruce Wayne is Batman, Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Bruce Wayne is a Nightmare, Dick Grayson is Robin, Gen, Nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-23
Updated: 2020-10-23
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:55:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27156232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Batman had gone out last night and in his place, this–thismonsterhad returned.Bruce is a literal Nightmare.
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne
Comments: 1
Kudos: 96
Collections: Anonymous





	The Nightmare and the Boy

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [In which Bruce is a shadow person from another dimension and still adopts (kidnaps?) children](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26770042) by [PrincessMariana](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrincessMariana/pseuds/PrincessMariana). 



> This came out fluffier than it was meant to.

_This was impossible,_ Dick thought, breath tight, lungs seizing, too close to a panic attack, his throat closing over and every inhalation near choking him.

Batman's face loomed at him from several feet away, casting enormous shadows. In the jaw and in the faint, pale line visible from beneath the cowl, Dick could see Bruce, but there was something terribly wrong with the man.

Batman had gone out last night and in his place, this–this _monster_ had returned.

The cape seemed to cling to his frame like literal wings and his skin was such a shade of alabaster that Dick would have thought him a corpse had he not been moving around. The cowl, usually quite distinguishable from his skin seemed to melt into his head as though it was a part of it. The Batsuit seemed to have become a living part of Bruce, an extra let of limbs.

The creature― _Bruce,_ he forced himself to think―emitted a low, rumbling sound, not vicious enough to be a growl. Then, he formed words.

“There's no need to be afraid, Chum,” he said, a deep, guttural roll. It didn't sound entirely human. “It is just me.”

Dick tried not to shake. At sixteen, he'd thought he'd seen it all. Apparently, he'd been sorely mistaken.

Bruce took a step closer, his… _wings_ rustling as he did.

“What―what _are_ you?” Dick breathed, forcing himself not to take a step back.

The lenses of the cowl seemed to narrow. Contrary to the sharp expression, Bruce sighed.

“I had hoped it would never come to this,” he began, each word a strange, echoing rasp. “I had thought my human shape so honed, solid and refined that it could withstand anything. I was wrong. Scarecrow's latest fear toxin was so potent, it transformed me back.”

Dick felt numb. He pressed his lips together tightly, until they felt numb too.

Bruce took another step forward. _Close, now,_ Dick thought distantly, within arms reach.

“I am a Nightmare,” Bruce announced factually, as though that was that. He didn't elaborate.

Dick shook. Two almost formless hands came down to rest upon his shoulders. It was strangely comforting. Where the bravery came from to ask his question, Dick wasn't sure.

“Can you change back?” he wondered, a tiny quaver in his voice.

“No.” Bruce spoke not harshly, though brusque nonetheless.

Dick sat on that a moment. “So,” he said, drawing the word out slower. “You're stuck like this?”

Bruce smiled. Or tried to smile. The amount of white teeth was unnerving.

“This is my true appearance,” he said. “It may take me many months to create another version of a human body.”

“Oh,” he returned, barely a squeak.

Bruce nodded, albeit sadly.

“I am afraid my Nightmare side may protrude more prominently in the next few months,” he continued, sounding apologetic. “I will try not to frighten you, although I hope you will forgive me if I do.”

Dick smiled then, a true, broad thing. This was Bruce, there was no way Dick would be frightened.

“Don't worry, B,” he said, reaching up to the top of the cowl with one flat palm and patting Bruce's head. It felt odd, not like the leathery cowl at all. Instead, it felt almost like velvet. Almost like… hair. “I won't be afraid.”

Bruce beamed back, too many white teeth glistening.

* * *

That week, Alfred explained what a Nightmare was, what they did and then how Bruce was… _different_ from most Nightmares.

“They are creatures of the night, of shadow,” he had said. “Their primary purpose is to instil fear.”

Dick blinked at him. “Bruce isn't scary though,” he refuted, puffing up his chest bravely. “Not to me.”

Alfred chuckled lightly. “Not to you, no,” he returned with a smile and a laugh. “But what about all the criminals you fight?”

Dick chewed on that as he made his way through breakfast.

Bruce didn't emerge from his bedroom that day. Or the next. Or the day after that. He still went out as Batman, but Robin was forbidden from coming along.

“I believe he is afraid you will find him too scary,” Alfred sighed at lunch, eating with Dick, a rare occasion indeed.

Dick pouted. “No I won't!” he protested.

Alfred tutted. “Finish your meal,” was all he said on the matter.

It was almost a week before Dick saw Bruce again, barely more than a shadow in the corner of his bedroom. The ominous shape startled Dick at first, walking in only to emit a strangled yelp. The shadow moved instantly, in front of him suddenly, but not touching.

“Bruce,” he laughed nervously, still trying to calm his racing heart. “Way to give a guy a fright.”

Bruce looked unhappy at that.

“Sorry for frightening you, chum,” he apologised, still not reaching out to ruffle Dick's hair or clap him on the shoulder. “It was an accident. I'll go.”

Dick grabbed the form with a hand before it could go, surprisingly solid.

“No,” he said, then more pleadingly, “Don't leave.”

Bruce looked a little mollified.

“I haven't seen you in a week,” Dick continued, a begging quality to his tone. “You've been avoiding me.”

At least Bruce didn't deny it.

“It's your bedtime,” he said instead, then picked Dick up in his arms as though he was eight and not sixteen, shuffling over to the bed and plopping him beneath the covers. “Children need rest.”

Dick pulled a face. “I'm not a kid.” He rolled his eyes.

Bruce, with a hand so gentle it felt like a feather, smoothed the bangs out of Dick's eyes. “You're _my_ kid,” he said, as though that was a good argument.

“I'm not tired then,” returned Dick, trying not to pout.

“Yes you are,” replied Bruce, smoothing a thumb over his brow.

Then, as if by magic― _which it probably was―_ Dick's eyes fell closed as though a weight were pulling them down.

Within minutes he was asleep, a Nightmare watching over him.

* * *

Dick awoke with a scream as he bolted upright in bed, shaking and shivering and terrified.

The monster, lurking awake beneath the bed, jolted out of the shadows and came to rest on the covers, hands flitting to Dick's face as though he had forgotten he no longer looked human, but instead like a Nightmare.

At the sight of him, Dick's eyes went wide, a second scream nearly ripping out of him until he met the lenses of the cowl.

“B–B–Bruce?”

The Nightmare, filled with its own kind of terror, nodded.

“I'm right here, Dickie. You're okay.”

Dick nodded and took several slow breaths to the pattern of a shadowy hand rubbing slow circles on his back.

“I had a… nightmare,” he said.

Bruce nodded back. “I know.”

There was silence after that, but eventually, Bruce broke it.

“I'm sorry,” he apologised, sounding truly remorseful. “This was my fault.”

Dick peered at him, puzzled.

Bruce looked rather uncomfortable with the gaze, but finally he confessed. “I was inside your dream.”

Dick appeared both confused and alarmed.

“Inside my dream?” he parroted.

Bruce grimaced. “I'm sorry,” he apologised again. “I should know better, truly. I did not meant to frighten you.”

Dick blinked, agape. “That was _you?”_ he said.

Bruce shifted his eyes to the floor regretfully.

“You were the nightmare,” Dick breathed, coming to terms with it. Bruce did not look any more comforted.

There was a long pause.

“You should go back to sleep,” said Bruce, making to brush his thumb over Dick's forehead for a second time.

Dick batted his hand away. “I don't want to,” he said quietly, then amended, “not yet, anyway.”

Bruce pulled back, sadly. “Alright,” he returned.

Dick blinked up at him.

“Hot chocolates?” he asked.

Bruce blinked back.

“Sure, chum.”

The night was quiet as the Nightmare and the boy walked towards the kitchen for a midnight snack.

Dick considered Bruce's form with a smile.

Maybe the man was a Nightmare, but to Dick, he would always be Bruce.


End file.
